


The Final Nail

by helsinkibaby



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank decides to do what he wants, rather than what he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Nail

**Author's Note:**

> Theme: uninhibited  
> Prompt: any, any, doing what you want instead of what you should

"Go home, Frank."

Jenny's voice was a ragged whisper, quiet compared to the raucous shouting and karaoke singing going on at the other end of the bar, but Frank heard every word loud and clear. Part of that was because of how close he was standing to her, close enough that a piece of paper would barely fit between their bodies; part of it was because his gaze was fixed on her lips and he watched each word form, their shape like a bullet to his heart. And part of it was because the pain he heard in her voice was mirrored in her eyes and he hated himself for being the cause of it. 

"This is what you wanted," Jenny reminded him. "After Ancitif... you and Cynthia decided to try again." The morning he'd had to tell her that, the expression she'd worn, danced through his mind. "You can't keep coming around here..." Her voice broke and she looked down, shaking her head impatiently. 

"I know I haven't been fair to you." She looked up at his words, laughed harshly, humourlessly. "But, Jenny, I never wanted to hurt you." 

Jenny's lips twisted in a bitter smirk. "I know." She shook her head, looked down at her hands as they rose up, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "That's the worst part."

"Jenny..." Her name was a sigh and his hands went to her shoulders, touching gently at first, then firmer. He knew, the second he did it, that it was a bad idea, that touching her would lead to a tsunami of memories, an ocean of want and so it proved. It was scant consolation that at the touch of his hand, her eyes locked with his, her pupils dilating as she sucked in a sharp breath. 

"You should go home," she whispered, the whisper this time even more ragged and he shook his head, took a step closer, eliminating any distance between them. 

"I don't want to." It was the truth; he'd gone back to Cynthia because he'd never wanted to get divorced in the first place, because he wanted to be in his daughter's life, thought she should have a proper family. He'd never considered that he would have moved on, emotionally as well as physically, and after his "death" when that evil had possessed him, when he could feel it swallowing his soul inch by inch, day by day, being with his family had seemed to be something important he should do with the little time remaining to him. 

Then Henry died and his soul was free and much as a part of him would always love Cynthia, he realised that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life trapped in a marriage that was only shy of one more nail in the coffin. 

"Then what do you want?" Hope warred with uncertainty in Jenny's voice and he didn't hesitate, cupping her face in his hands.

"You."

He kissed her then and she kissed him back, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him close. 

He swore he heard the final nail being hammered in, but he didn't regret it. 


End file.
